Negligence
by peterpandemonium
Summary: It wasn't until Wendy got pregnant did Peter realise that he did indeed have a fear of something. But it wasn't a "something". It was a someone. And that someone was a little child with a mop of brown curls and a devilish grin. A little child just like him. Modern Day AU


There wasn't a single thing in the world that Peter Pan was afraid of. The dark? No. Ghosts? No. Spiders? Are you kidding? Death? Not a chance. People never believed him when he told them so. "Everyone is afraid of something" they would say and his reply would usually be a quick roll of the eyes and a shake of the head. Everyone but Peter. He believed that all fears could be solved if one was bothered to do so. Afraid of the dark? Switch on a light. Afraid of ghosts? A handful of salt should keep them at bay. Peter always said that people should be more afraid of the living than they are of the dead. Afraid of spiders? Then throw a shoe at it. Afraid of death? There's no reason to be. It's natural and is unavoidable no matter how hard you try to escape it.

Even earlier on today when Wendy spoke those crackly words to him over a phone call fear was not the first emotion to rise up inside Peter. He had picked up his phone on the third ring and didn't even get a chance to say a proper greeting to Wendy as she leaped straight into the serious conversation.

"We need to talk, Peter."

If any other teenage boy had heard those words, they would probably faint before the conversation could be had. But not Peter Pan. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he flung himself casually back onto his bed.

"So talk."

He could hear Wendy sigh in frustration on the other end of the line. She went quiet for a few moments before finally speaking again and when she spoke her voice was quiet, a hint of unease in her tone.

"This isn't something I should tell you over a phone call."

This sentence arched Peter's eyebrow in confusion. What could possibly be so serious that she couldn't even tell him on the phone? Feelings of annoyance and impatience began to mix inside Peter and when he spoke it was with a harsher tone than he intended.

"Wendy just tell me already."

He could tell his sharp tone had stung her when the next breath she took was shaky, as if she was trying her hardest not to let tears fall. He sat up, guilt flooding over him. He ran a hand over his face. He was trying really hard to control his temper as of late, he really was. He was finding it very hard. Too hard for his liking. Peter was one of those people were abilities came easy to him. He could master a maths equation in a couple of minutes, he had good soccer skills and he learned to play a song on the piano in under an hour. So why did he struggle so much to control something so little as his temper? It was apart of him so surely it should be easy to control?

When Wendy spoke again his predictions came out correct, she was doing her best to hold in her tears. He wouldn't have been surprised if a few had slipped out already. The wait for Wendy to reveal her news to him was agonizing. Even though he had been waiting for barely a minute, it felt like hours. He could feel the impatience swirling around inside him, becoming more intense with each wobbly breath that Wendy took. He wanted to interject, tell Wendy to hurry up and spill the beans but his conscience told him that was the wrong thing to do and he would only make things worse for them both. So he held his breath.

Out of all the possible sentences that could have came out of Wendy's mouth, it was the one Peter had least been expecting. It was only two words, yet those two small words was enough to make Peter's body rigid with shock.

"I'm pregnant."

He didn't speak. He couldn't speak. How could he when shock had frozen over each and every one of his senses? Every time he tried to form a sentence the words died on the tip of his tongue. His mouth opened and closed like a codfish and so many thoughts were running through his mind that he was worried his head might explode. How could this be? They were careful. He knew they were. He made sure they were. This wasn't supposed to happen. How would he and Wendy raise a child? They were only just seventeen. Still children themselves. He can't say how long he sat in silence for only that Wendy's voice tore him from his thoughts.

"Peter? Peter, are you still there?"

"Wh-What? Yes, I'm still here Wendy. I'm here."

Silence came yet again, the only sounds being Wendy's faint sniffles and Peter's heavy breathing. Yet still, fear had not creeped up inside of Peter. Maybe his body was so full of shock that there was no room for fear to be let in. Then he remembered something that Dr. Hopper had told him before.

"Are you alright?"

Peter had been going to weekly sessions with Dr. Hopper to help control his temper and other things. Hopper had shown Peter a communication skill during one of their sessions. He told him that he should try asking others how _they're _doing and listen to what they have to say. So that is exactly what he was doing.

"No."

"Do you want me to come over there?"

"No. It would be too risky. If my parents overheard us..." She let out a low sigh. She was right. Her parents tended to give Peter the cold shoulder whenever he made an appearance and if they were overheard it was guaranteed all hell would break loose. "Do you want to meet me at the clock tower? Twenty minutes?"

"The clock tower?" Interesting choice of meeting point. "Yeah, I'll be there. See you soon."

"Bye Peter." And with that, the line went dead.

Peter stood up from his bed and slammed his phone down onto the covers. It bounced off and landed on the floor, the back flying off the battery falling out. Peter was too preoccupied to even give it a second glance. He pulled at his brown hair, not caring if he tore chunks out of it. The shock had melted from his body and anger had taken its place. He kicked at his nightstand, the wooden drawers clattering at the impact. The anger was bubbling up inside of him and it began to take control of him. He yelled as he swiped his hand across the top of his nightstand and flung the objects to the floor in a racket. But that was not enough.

A little voice was yelling inside him, telling him to stop it right now but his rage was too strong and the small voice was quickly drowned out. He reeled his arm back and aimed a punch at the wall. He cursed loudly as he cradled his fist in his other hand, the skin of his knuckles torn and blood slowly trickling down to his fingertips. He took a seat back on his bed, resting his head in his hands, his body heaving with each ragged breath he took.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

That word was appearing over and over again inside his mind. How could they have both been so stupid? They've ruined their lives and they haven't even got the proper chance to live them yet. He was surprised that no one had come knocking on his door to complain about the noise he had made. Peter's home was in a small, cramped room in Granny's Bed and Breakfast. He was the only permanent inhabitant staying there.

He knew without a doubt that Wendy would keep the baby. There wasn't a single unloving bone in her body and he knew she would grow to love the baby and refuse to part with it. With Peter it wasn't as simple. Love wasn't something that came easy for Peter Pan. If it even came at all, that is. Wendy was all he had and he loved her very much, though he'd never admit it. He didn't want to lose her anytime soon so he was prepared to do what he had to do.

And as walked towards the clocktower that night, the bitter wind whipping harshly at his cheeks, he could feel his heart hammering against his chest and his palms grow sweaty and it wasn't because he happened to be wearing gloves. He could see the tower looming out of the darkness and as he cast his gaze downwards back to the ground he saw her standing there. Wrapped up warmly from head to toe she stood there, her head hanging low and her blonde curls rustling in the wind. Peter was almost sure that his heart was about to jump right out of his body and onto the pavement below him but he kept walking. Only when Wendy lifted her head as he approached did fear begin to spread throughout his body.

But Peter Pan wasn't afraid of anything. He was afraid of a someone. And that someone was a little child with a mop of brown curls and a devilish grin. A little child just like him.


End file.
